Harry Potter and the Year of Madness
by JacquiWrites
Summary: Harry Potter defeated Lord Voldemort twelve hours ago. Follow him through his year of madness, where he will have to deal with unbelievers, friends and family, marriage proposals, Kreacher's massive overprotectiveness and interesting way of misunderstanding, and much more.
1. Kreacher's Care

Chapter One- Kreacher's Care

Harry was alone, sat on his bed in Gryffindor Tower, eating the sandwich that Kreacher had brought up for him as requested. He knew that he would have much to do over the coming hours and days, but for now, he was content to eat his ham sandwich, washing it down with the goblet of pumpkin juice by his side. As he chewed, he thought of the sort of things he would need to do in the future; things he would feel badly about if he didn't do them, things others would expect him to do whether he wanted to or not, and things that he absolutely would not do- some of these things may or may not overlap.

He swallowed the last bite of sandwich before turning and lying down on the bed, still thinking about how busy he was going to be, but grateful for this calm moment before he would have to face the rest of the world. His eyes fluttered shut and he was asleep within seconds.

"Master! Master Harry, sir!"

A small hand was on his shoulder, shaking him awake what felt like seconds later. Kreacher was standing on Harry's pillow, bending over him as he called his name.

"Ah, Master Harry is awake," Kreacher said, straightening up and jumping down from the bed. "Kreacher is sorting Master Harry's best clothes while Master Harry goes for his washing- including hair please, Master Harry!"

Harry stared blearily at Kreacher, rubbing one eye.

"What? Kreacher, why are you doing this. First of all, I can sort my own clothes. Secondly, Why my best clothes? And thirdly, how are you sorting out my clothes? Did I accidentally free you yesterday?"

Kreacher looked at Harry as though he'd just grown several extra limbs.

"Firstly, Kreacher is Master Harry, Saviour of the Wizardy World's House Elf and Kreacher will sort the clothes, not Master Harry. Secondly, Master Harry, Hero of House Elves, has to look his best when he makes his speech and conducts his meetings. And thirdly, Master Harry, Defeater of Lord Bloody Mart, did not free Kreacher. Kreacher's mother taught Kreacher how to look after clothes when Kreacher was a very small Elf, as Mistress Walburga and her family refused to do their own laundry. Now Master Harry will take his bath now please."

Harry continued to stare at Kreacher. He could do laundry without being freed? Harry wasn't sure that was possible, but if Kreacher was able to do this, then he would have to try and dissuade him from it- it would probably upset Hermione even more. But then something registered. "Meetings? _Speech?_ "

"Yes, Master Harry, but after the bath." Kreacher replied, flicking his wrist in what looked like a very complicated pattern over a pair of dress robes that Harry had never seen before. Kreacher spotted Harry gazing at the robes. "Kreacher took the liberty of buying Master Harry several sets of brand new robes from the rewards that Master Harry has received for defeating Dark Wizard Bloody Mart"

"Voldemort," Harry corrected absently. He was looking around the dormitory, thankful that none of his roommates had decided to crash there at the same time he had. Unless, of course, Seamus was asleep under that enormous pile of clothes that Kreacher had dumped on his bed, or perhaps Neville was reading a Herbology textbook behind that massive sack of gold. Harry looked at the sack of gold- that'd be going towards helping the families of those that had suffered during the war, he thought. Plus most of the people who had helped him throughout the last year would be getting a huge chunk. He was too busy thinking about where the gold would go to realise immediately what was so different about the room.

"Um, Kreacher, just how many sets of robes did you buy?" Harry asked, looking amazed around the room. As well as the pile of robes on Seamus's bed, there was an equally large pile at the foot of Dean's bed, a slightly smaller pile that Kreacher was currently working through on Ron's, and about twenty hanging on the curtain rail on the window between Ron's bed and his own. He watched dumbfounded as the ornate black velvet robes that Kreacher had been working on gave itself one last flap before placing itself on a hanger by the window with the other prepared robes.

"Master Harry must wear clean, neat robes every single day," said Kreacher, reaching out his hand as a gold robe with little shimmery bits floated lazily towards him. Harry watched Kreacher perform the same complicated pattern with his wrist before realising what Kreacher had said. He stared around the room at the piles and piles of robes and something clicked within his brain.

"Kreacher?" Harry asked tentatively. "Did you actually buy that many sets of robes? Did you seriously buy me three hundred and sixty five sets of dress robes?"

No, Master Harry. That would be silly. Now bath at once, Master Harry. Kingsley Minister Sir wants to see you."

Still eyeing him suspiciously, Harry headed for the bathroom. Seeing the thoroughly welcoming sight of a full bath, complete with bubbles, the steam rising softly and fragrantly from the surface, Harry let out a sigh, which quickly turned into a gasp, head whipping around, as he heard Kreacher's final remark.

"After all, Master Harry, Kreacher knows all about Leap Years."


	2. The Saviour of the Wizardy World

Chapter Two: The Saviour of the Wizardy World

Knock! Knock!

Harry jumped as the bathroom door was opened and Kreacher walked in, a towel outstretched in his arms and another slung over his shoulder. Without a word, he Summoned a box of Mrs Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, stood on it and started drying Harry's hair. Harry flinched and moved away, causing the water to slop out over the sides, across the floor and also drenching Kreacher.

"I can do that, Kreacher!" he admonished, Kreacher shook his head violently, the hair growing out of his ears wafting in the breeze that this action caused.

"No, Master Harry. Master Harry has naughty hair that will not lie flat when Master Harry dries his own hair. Kreacher used this method on Master Orion when Master Orion was a little boy."

Harry sighed, resigning himself to whatever 'method' Kreacher had to tidy his hair up, after which, Kreacher held out the larger towel to him, thankfully allowing him to dry himself. They went back into the dormitory, where Harry noticed the rows upon rows of dress robes hanging on curtain rails, on doors, and on every available space that one could hang robe upon.

"Master Harry should choose some smart robes to meet Mister Kingsley Minister. Master Harry needs to meet Wizard public afterwards, Kreacher thinks that Master Harry should wear black respect robes for dead wizards."

Harry stared at him again- he seemed to be doing that a lot today, and he'd been asleep for most of it. Respect robes for dead wizards? Oh. He finally understood what Kreacher meant, and nodded soberly. The pain of the loss hit like lightning. It had been numbed somewhat by sleep, the bath, and the shock of suddenly becoming the proud owner of three hundred and sixty six sets of brand-new dress robes.

But now, the thought of wearing black robes to honour those who had died just yesterday hurt him like a physical pain. Dying himself had been easier. Fred, Remus, Tonks...Snape. Many others. And those who had not died, but had been severely hurt, physically and mentally scarred. He looked through the robes, moving them from right to left, not even realising that he had started to cry until Kreacher sidled up to him and discreetly pushed a handkerchief into one fist.

Finally deciding upon a fairly sedate set of black, silver-trimmed cotton robes (after making Kreacher promise to either destroy, give away or return a set he'd found that was tangerine with a lilac border), he removed them from the hanger and put them on. Just as Kreacher was making a clothes brush clear any specks of dust that had been missed, the door opened and Ron, Hermione and Ginny walked in.

"Oops, wrong room," Ron said, stopping dead as he looked around at all of the robes hanging in their various positions. Ginny and Hermione looked equally speechless. Harry let a small grin appear on his face and nodded towards Kreacher.

"Uh, yeah. Kreacher thought that I needed a few new sets of robes," he said, shaking his head slightly.

"Wow," said Ron. "A few hundred, I'd say." Ginny and Hermione nodded.

"One for every day, Mister Ronnie." Kreacher said, waving a hand and making Harry's dirty clothes into the washing basket. A strange expression appeared upon Hermione's face.

"Kreacher's working with your clothes, Harry. Kreacher? Did Harry free you?"

Kreacher looked at Hermione doubtfully, but at a warning glance from Harry, he finally answered.

"M-miss Hermione, Harry Potter has not set Kreacher free. Mistress Walburga did not clean her own clothes, so Kreacher's mother learned to clean and press clothes without touching them, and taught Kreacher how to do this when Kreacher came into Mistress Walburga's house to work. 'Tis the only insult Mistress Walburga ever bestowed upon Kreacher, and Kreacher never understood why. Sirius Black broke his mother's heart, but at least he did his own laundry."

Ginny looked around the room at the many robes, a small frown upon her face. "But Kreacher, if laundry work is so offensive to House Elves, then why are you doing Harry's?"

Kreacher gave Ginny the same look he had given Harry earlier that day. "Because, Miss Ginny, Master Harry is the Saviour of the Wizardy World Defeater of Lord Bloody Mart Hero of House Elves and Master Harry should not do his own laundry!" This whole sentence was delivered in one breath.

"Well, that's us told," said Ron, examining some of the more frivolous robes. He held up an elaborate set, deep blue and embroidered with thousands of gems and gold thread. "Hey, look at these! They weigh an absolute ton and..." he paused, looking with a slight frown on his face. "...those look like real diamonds."

Hermione and Ginny moved in towards the robes as Kreacher put away the clothes brush. They looked closely and glanced at each other. Hermione took out her wand and waved it, before looking shocked. "They are real diamonds."

Kreacher looked over at Hermione and Ginny, who were running their fingers over the tiny stones. "Master Harry must have diamondy robes. Master Orion told Kreacher that the respected wizards always have the diamondy robes for more respect."

"Master Orion was nuts if he thought that diamonds get you respect," muttered Harry. Fortunately, Kreacher didn't hear him. Instead, he pointed at the robes, and then at the empty hanger, giving Ron a commanding look. Ron understood, and replaced the robes.

Harry turned to face his friends. Their faces all showed similar expressions; happiness with a hint of loss and grief. The three were wearing dark robes- evidently the message to wear black had got to them too. None showed any external physical injuries from the battle at Hogwarts. Ginny spoke first.

"We've been asked to go and see Kingsley too. Are you ready?" As he nodded, he studied her face. She looked beautiful, her hair simply pulled back into a clip, her eyes sparkling, though slightly haunted-looking through shock. She grabbed his hand and led him out of the room, Ron and Hermione following them. Kreacher watched them go, wondering when Master Harry would be asking a very important question. After just a second's delay, he made a decision, and with a quick apparition to Grimmauld Place and back, he found Master Harry's rucksack and placed within it 'The Book.' Satisfied, he began to clean the dormitory, humming slightly.


	3. A Meeting with the Minister

Chapter three: A Meeting With the Minister

"Ah, Harry!" Kingsley exclaimed as he opened the door. He ushered the four into the classroom that he had acquired as a temporary office. Harry looked around; there were papers over many of the desks, and a large pile of letters being automatically answered by an extravagant-looking peacock quill- something that struck Harry as odd. Kingsley Shacklebolt didn't seem the type to own such a thing, let alone use it.

"Hmph!" Kingsley exclaimed, following Harry's gaze. "Revolting, isn't it? I found it in the back of the desk drawer." Then it hit Harry: they were in the old Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom- the quill must have been a forgotten relic of Lockhart's. It was hardly surprising that he hadn't realised straight away, he mused, when he had studied DADA, the lessons were taken down in the dungeons with...with Snape. In fact, the last time he had been in this particular classroom was with...

"Umbridge!" he exclaimed. "What...?"

Kingsley nodded curtly to him. "On the run. Has been since word made it to the Ministry that Voldemort was gone. I doubt that she even knows who's in charge now," he added, a grim smile spreading unusually across his face. "Four Aurors are trailing her. She'll be in custody by sunrise tomorrow."

"You're sure?" Hermione asked. She looked both worried and satisfied. Harry briefly wondered how this was possible.

"Hermione, the woman couldn't hide if her life depended on it- which in a way, it does," said Ginny, smirking. "She's just too...pink."

Everybody laughed at this. Harry took a minute, picturing the toady witch at some Muggle pub, dressed in a bright pink travelling cloak, being arrested by the local police for breach of the peace and threatening patrons with a short, ugly-looking stick. When the others asked what he was grinning about, he shared this brief image with them, causing the laughter to increase, with Kingsley laughing hardest of all. He had, of course, worked with the Muggle police and knew that this scenario was entirely plausible.

"Anyway," Kingsley said, finally calming down. "You may have some idea of why I've brought you here."

"Uh...I'm not sure why I'm here," said Ron. "I mean, I wasn't much help in anyth-"

"Ron Weasley, if you continue with that sentence, I will hex you. In front of the Minister, if I have to!" This came from Hermione, who had sunk into a chair when she was laughing, but was now standing straight, her shoulders back and wand pointing directly at Ron. Her hand was shaking slightly. Ron looked up from his own chair, which he had flopped into when he came into the room, jaw dropped and staring straight at her.

"You saved Harry from that pond," she started, still pointing her wand.

"But...that wasn't-"

"You tried to save me when Bellatrix had me. You helped us as much as you could-"

"Yeah, by leav-"

"You continued fighting, no matter what had happened. You finally...you finally realised. So don't you dare tell us, _Mister_ Weasley, that you don't know why you're here"

There were tears in her eyes as Ginny approached her, gently placing her hand on Hermione's wand arm. Hermione lowered the wand and slumped back into her chair, one hand over her eyes. Ron was staring at her, face pink and looking decidedly uncomfortable. Harry glanced at him and nodded slightly, hoping to convey to Ron that he wholeheartedly agreed with everything that she had just said.

"Ahem," Kingsley cleared his throat. "Yes, Hermione, something like that. First of all, however. Harry- your speech."

"Oh God!"

"Yes, I thought you'd react like that. I have a speech written already for you, you just have to read it. I wouldn't normally ask, Harry, but this is a highly unusual situation. Dark Lords don't get defeated every day, and the press want to hear everything."

"Skeeter." said Hermione, who still had her hand over here eyes. "Kingsley, there's something you need to know about her. She's-"

"A beetle" Kingsley finished. "We know." At Hermione's puzzled look, he grinned. "We caught her trying to fly around after the Battle. She's got to liaise with the Animagus Registry within three days, or she's in big trouble."

"Good" four voices echoed. Kingsley smiled and continued.

"You're all required to attend because I've got to present three of you, along with some others, with the Order of Merlin. Ginny, I'm sorry, I tried to get awards for you, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, but the Wizengamot voted against giving 'too many awards.'" Ginny waved her hand and shrugged at this. "I think that some of them were worried that giving the Order of Merlin to teenagers would cheapen their own awards, many of which were given due to donations rather than saving the Wizarding World. They agreed to Harry, but were even unwilling to recognise that Ron and Hermione had done anything much more than camping instead of going to school. I'm rather unhappy about the whole deal, to be quite frank.." He looked it too, Harry thought.

Kingsley wandered over towards the peacock quill, glanced down at a page and sighed. "There are still going to be a lot of people after your blood, Harry. Take this-" he hit the page with the back of his hand just as the quill finished its final flourish, "-letter here. Replying to someone claiming that the defeat of Voldemort could only have been completed by someone as Dark as he. She's demanding your immediate removal to Azkaban, or failing that, what she calls a 'dark, soft, secure room' in St Mungo's. I have replied stating that we will, of course, run an entire mental health test on you."

"And will you?" asked Ginny, looking worried.

"Yes, I think so," said Kingsley, slowly. "I think that a lot of people will need to be subjected to a range of tests. I learned a lot from the Muggle Prime Minister regarding the mental state of people who have been through emotional upheaval. He used an abbreviation, but I don't recall them."

"PTSD" said Hermione at once. "It stands for 'Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.' Some soldiers suffer with it, but a traumatic even of any kind can be the cause."

Kingsley looked interested. "Yes, I believe that was the term he used. Magical people can also have this, but I don't think that we have a term for it yet." He sighed again, deeply, making a different stack of letters ripple. "And then there's the Animal Rights' Groups."

Four faces looked puzzled, so much so that Kingsley had to laugh at them.

"Let's see...'RIMA'- that's the 'Rights for Indigenous Magical Animals' group...um...'VaVWAC'- nice name...Vegetarian and Vegan Wizards Against Cruelty. There's also...where is it? Ah, here...'TSAR'- I think that was genuinely started by a ten-year-old Wizard in Hull- 'Treat Snakes All Right'...there are more..."

Four faces still looked puzzled, then Ginny spoke.

"Are they...are they really...going after Neville? Going after Neville for killing You-Know-Who's snake?"

Kingsley hesitated. "Partly...but they're also attacking Harry for, hang on..." he picked up one of the letters. To Harry, it looked as though it had been written in purple crayon. " here- 'cruelly making a younger boy to kill a poor defenceless snake just because it would kill the Dark Lord.' So there you go. That's one by the ten-year-old. The others are more succinct, but in a similar vein. I'd normally agree with these groups- too many magical people are cruel to animals, but they don't seem to realise that this was a one-off, justifiable occurrence."

Harry looked disgusted, but he could only put one argument into words against this strange letter. "Neville's actually a day older than me."


End file.
